


Wands of a Feather

by primrooks



Category: Elena of Avalor (Cartoon), Sofia the First (Cartoon)
Genre: Fantastical Elitism, Gen, Magical Dorks, More characters to be added, rivals to friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-06-25 17:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19749985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primrooks/pseuds/primrooks
Summary: Mateo attends the second Conjurer's Conference on Turtlejade Isle, and encounters a different side of magic that he's never had to face in Avalor. What was to be a fun and educational weekend turns into a social obstacle course, and things only get more complicated when he runs into Cedric, the Enchancian Royal Sorcerer who also isn't keen about Mateo's appearance.





	1. Turtlejade Isle

**Author's Note:**

> Just to start off, this takes place a month after "Realm of the Jaquins" and a month and a half after "Forever Royal!"

The late morning sun was still lazily climbing upwards when the passenger liner drifted close to the docks at Turtlejade Isle, along the western coastline of the archipelago resort. From the bow of the ship Mateo could see the resort town built into the lovely summer-green hillside, leading up to a stately-looking villa of blue and white brick. He had read that it was once a summer castle to some past Zumarian queen, long used as a tourist trap before Zumaria granted permission for it to host the second annual Conjurers’ Conference. His chest swelled in excitement, especially as the first mate and other crew members of El Loto called for passengers to gather their belongings and wait with their tickets ready. It had been a week since anyone on the ship had stepped onto dry land, and sea legs or no, Mateo couldn’t wait to get a running start.

Solid ground meant the first meal in a week that wasn’t bacon, beans and briny rice. Even though his mother and Elena had insisted he leverage his position as Royal Wizard for a more luxurious ride, Mateo didn’t feel the need to sink his money into extra amenities. Besides, he wanted more of his spending to go into new books, journals, potion ingredients, souvenirs.. and potentially an extra suitcase. The conference wasn’t a vacation, not really; it was a chance for him to meet other mages and study magic from foreign lands, something he’d dreamt about for so long in all those years of secret studying. _Merlin_ was said to be a returning guest this year, and Mateo would drift to sleep in his cabin while running through all the questions he’d ask the legendary wizard. Even now, he could barely hold down his smile when he stepped back onto the deck after retrieving his luggage, looking hungrily at the new horizons that hillside estate promised.   
  
“Hold.”  
  
Mateo had barely stepped off the gangplank with his boarding group when a man in a black-and-white soldier’s uniform signaled him to stop.  
  
“Is something the matter?” Mateo asked, impatience straining his voice. The guard simply directed him to a customs office, as others in similar uniforms were doing to the other passengers.   
  
Mateo’s brow unfurrowed instantly. “Oh, oh, yes! Thank you!”  
  
He nodded at the guard before rushing off to the office lobby, where thankfully a new line opened up just as he stepped in. The tall, bespectacled arrivals clerk asked for Mateo’s travel papers, which included a signed visa and verification of his title under Elena’s name and royal seal. The clerk shuffled through his papers, shooting occasional glances at Mateo before stamping them and handing them back.  
  
“Conference attendees must head to the designated checkpoint in town; red and purple tent by the Rosegrove Inn,” she said drily. Not wanting to hold up the new line, Mateo muttered thanks before sidestepping around tourists to reach what looked like the town’s central plaza. He asked a middle-aged flower seller for directions and hurried up along a northern street branching out of the market square. Next to a green-roofed inn was the telltale tent, big enough to hold three at a time, and stationed in the middle of a horseshoe-shaped cul-de-sac. Circling the perimeter in front of the tent was a sizable queue of mages in hats and robes of all cuts and sizes, the sight of which gave him pause. There had to be at least 20 people ahead of him, and-  
  
“Gyurrrurggh…”   
  
According to his stomach, lunch was suddenly a priority. Mateo bit down a groan and rifled through his satchel after taking his place in line. The only edible thing he had in hand was half a biscuit saved about three dinners ago, and before he pulled that out he’d mistaken it for a paperweight. He replaced it in defeat, and his eyes (and nose) happened upon the various food stalls set up around the tent.   
  
Before he could distract himself further, an impatient voice from the head of the line shouted, “Next! Come along, let’s keep the line moving!” Another man in soldier’s garb and a sorceress with grey-streaked brown hair were directing the conference attendees, checking their papers before leading them into the tent, where two other wizards stood waiting for whoever was next. The tent flaps closed before Mateo could see just what they were doing inside. This felt rather extraneous; if the rest of the visiting attendees had crossed through the arrivals office, all they really should have to do was make sure their registration was valid. Why the secrecy and extra muscle?  
  
“Whoops, watch your head, sonny!” A sudden gust of wind ruffled his hair, and Mateo looked up to where the draft (and the voice) had come from. Perched atop a flying broom was an older woman in Enchancian witch’s garb, a tacky patchwork dress topped with an equally colorful pointed hat.   
  
A shrill whistle pierced from the front of the line, and everyone turned to see the brunette sorceress blowing a thin silver whistle hanging from her neck.  
  
“No flying below roof-level!” she cried. Unfazed, the witch coyly drifted down like a feather upon a light breeze, smirking even as a guardsman approached her with a stoic warning.  
  
“They really do fly on brooms,” Mateo uttered to himself in awe. Suddenly, quiet giggles rippled around him, sending a sharp chill up his neck. When he glanced up, everyone in line was pointedly looking elsewhere, though a few of them were daintily covering their mouths with their hands. The chill blossomed into heat under his cheeks, and he planted his sight to the ground, praying that the line would move faster already.   
  
It didn’t help that his stomach was still complaining with all its squelching, and the mix of spicy, sweet and savory aromas from all of the bakeries and vendors around the inn was almost mocking, with the hawkers calling all passerby to sample foods that Mateo had never heard of but sounded exquisite. The line ahead was moving at a snail’s pace, and the more his stomach growled, the longer the seconds dragged on.  
  
He tapped the sorcerer ahead of him on the shoulder, and at the briefest of head-turns pleaded, “Pardon me, but could you watch over my things? It’ll be just a minute, thanks!”  
  
He didn’t even stay for the other man to respond as he set down his suitcase and dashed to find the food stall with the shortest line. The area around the inn was fairly crowded, with onlookers gawking at either storefronts or the eclectic gathering of wizards, but their attention seemed evenly split amongst the street vendors. Mateo found one that was selling corn grilled to a crispy brown and gold, gleaming with a buttery glaze. He figured it would hold him until lunch, maybe at an inn or a local restaurant. He ought to treat himself for his first solo journey overseas.   
  
Cheap as the ear was, it tasted as good as it looked, warming Mateo’s belly like frost over fire. He took another bite as he left the stall, wondering lazily if the line had moved.  
  
His suitcase was there, until it wasn’t.  
  
Mateo blinked, but it wasn’t a trick of the light. There just.. wasn’t a bag where there should have been. And there absolutely should have been, if he wanted to have something to wear for the next three days. He frantically scoped through the line and the rest of the street, trying to spot anyone holding a brown leather suitcase or hiding it in their person. People’s faces blurred as his eyes scanned their hands like a starved hawk.  
  
_That bag’s too big- That one.. no, the bag didn’t have a blue ribbon- No-_  
  
_No-_  
  
_NO-_  
  
**_-WAIT._  
**   
He’d nearly missed him: blending seamlessly into the crowd was a blonde man in a navy cloak, stepping up to the front porch of the Rosegrove Inn. His face was as neutral as could be, holding a suitcase inscribed with a sloth emblem as if it was his own. Without a second to spare, Mateo replaced his snack with his tamborita with ingrained precision. He was ready to clap his drum wand, the right spell ready at his tongue-  
  
“Retracia!” A beam of sparkling purple energy shot the thief from Mateo’s left, and the man stood frozen at the inn door, dazed as if he’d hit his head. The spell had taken Mateo by surprise as well, and he watched with mouth slightly agape as the thief started to take steps backwards. He walked in a perfect recreation of him sneaking over to the Rosegrove, only in reverse. When he approached the spot where Mateo had stood in line, the man gently placed the suitcase down, and only then did his dazed look wear off.  
  
“What the-?” Mateo wondered out loud, running up with his tamborita still in hand. A guardsman had already beaten him to the spot, dragging the thief away after exchanging some words with the sorcerer that Mateo had asked to watch his stuff. He must’ve been the one who shot the retracing spell, and only now did Mateo get a good look at his face.   
  
This other sorcerer looked to be at least twenty years older than himself, maybe older judging by his greyed bangs, the frown lines drawn from his long, beak-like nose and the bags under his eyes. And beneath his billowing, bell-sleeved aubergine robes, Mateo could tell that he was rather gangly as well.   
  
With the precision required for that kind of spell to work, he wondered if this man might be a high-ranking practitioner. Maybe he was in service to a duke or a king?  
  
“Ah, there you are,” the sorcerer spoke with a slightly reedy voice. “Your luggage, safe and sound,” he added with a theatrical wave of his gloved hand.  
  
Mateo gave a small smile, relieved that the man didn’t look too inconvenienced. “Thank you so much.” He bent down to make sure nothing was out of place. Thankfully, all of his clothes, toiletries and books were accounted for.  
  
“Hm. Is that your wand?” Mateo looked up to see the sorcerer peering curiously down at his tamborita.  
  
“Y-yes.” He cleared his throat and stood to his full height. “It’s a drum wand traditionally used by the wizards in Avalor, called a tamborita,” Mateo explained, showing off just a little by twirling the tamborita in his hand. The man’s eyebrows shot up.  
  
“A wizard from Avalor? Why, I haven’t heard such a thing in decades,” the man remarked.  
  
“Well, you happen to be looking at the first Royal Wizard of Avalor in over forty years. Mateo de Alva, court wizard in service to Her Highness Crown Princess Elena of Avalor,” said Mateo with a waist-low bow. He could hardly tamper the giddiness fluttering in his stomach. He’d been practicing his formal introduction for days in front of the mirror in his cabin, and here he was, an ocean away from Avalor but representing his home and title with the grace of a true professional.  
  
The sorcerer stood wide-eyed and speechless. Wow, Mateo didn’t think his introduction would be _that_ good.  
  
“ _Mateo?_ As in, the Mateo who helped Princess Sofia free Princess Elena from the Amulet?” he asked in disbelief.  
  
“Uh, well, yes,” Mateo answered.  
  
“But... But you’re so young! I mean, beg your pardon, the princess did tell me that you were the last Royal Wizard’s grandson, but I didn’t think that you’d still be a teenager!” The man was looking at him like he was a two-headed jaquin, and Mateo could feel the other mages in line looking over at their direction. He could feel heat creeping up his spine again.   
  
He cleared his throat once more, and recalled the way Elena would stand and address nobles at her court. He couldn’t be flustered, especially when he was alone and out in the open like this.  
  
“So you know Princess Sofia? And the Amulet?” Mateo added in a lower voice.  
  
“I make it my business to know about what magical items go through the halls of the palace, for I am Cedric the Sensational, - also referred to as Cedric the Great - Royal Sorcerer to His Majesty King Roland II of Enchancia,” the man declared with great aplomb.  
  
The Enchancian royal sorcerer? Well, now it made more sense how Sofia would know him, but why did Cedric’s name still ring such a concerning bell?  
  
“Er, well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Cedric. And thank you again for stopping that thief,” said Mateo.  
  
Cedric smiled proudly, oblivious to Mateo’s hesitant tone. “Not at all, my boy. You entrusted me to look after your place in line, after all.”  
  
“Speakin’ of which, would you two _kindly_ move along now?! You’ve been holdin’ us up fer almost a minute!” shouted a red-cheeked sorceress behind Mateo, and both he and Cedric realized to their chagrin that a four-foot long gap had grown between Cedric and the end of the line.   
  
“Sorry, very sorry!” shouted Cedric. He was next to enter the tent, which turned out to be a luggage checkpoint, where one wizard magically combed through bags for any suspicious items or contraband. When it was Mateo’s turn in the tent, the second wizard waved his wand over his body, checking for any invisible charms. With one last flick of the wrist, he imprinted an instantly-fading oval stamp on Mateo’s left hand.  
  
“That’s just to show that you passed check-in,” the wizard droned. “It looks faded, but it’ll stay on for the rest of your visit here.”  
  
Mateo was swiftly directed to his own lodgings, a villa called the High Tide that came highly recommended from Naomi. It was only about a fifteen-minute walk from the conference site, reasonably priced, and featured one gorgeous view of the beach. The furnishings in his room were simple enough, with blue and yellow cushions to give the space some color, and a small bulb-shaped paraffin lamp at the reading desk stuck out as the room’s most charming feature, at least to a night owl like Mateo.   
  
_I should get started on some letters after lunch,_ he thought. First was obviously to his mother, then Elena, and then Olivia. He recalled how excited his apprentice was when he told her that he’d be attending the Conjurer’s Conference this year, how she couldn’t believe he’d get to spend a whole weekend surrounded by nothing but magic. She was a bit upset that this meant no magic lessons for about two weeks, but he promised that he’d make it up to her. They could go over new tomes that Mateo found at the conference, see what made certain magical items tick, maybe test out a magic broom for themselves. Olivia’s unbridled joy at that suggestion was simply infectious, and it suddenly struck him how a week had already passed since he’d last seen her.   
  
Mateo stood by the window looking out to the beach, the sea a glittering, serene surface under the noon sun. This was the same view he left back in Avalor, where so much could’ve happened while he was traveling.   
  
Elena had promised him that she’d protect the kingdom and would send for him the moment he was needed, but that she wanted him to have fun and explore his passion for magic. He’d told her that he would, but he couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t worry. Even after almost getting his suitcase swiped from under his nose, Mateo was more worried about what he’d left behind than himself.  
  
As soon as the thought struck him, he peered out the window again, the radiant vista pulling him from the dark clouds his head had stumbled into. He stretched his arms, realizing how eager his legs felt to be walking on cobblestones and grass rather than wood planks. Now was as good a time as any to report back to his family and friends, to tell them how excited he was, rather than mull over it in a corner.  
  
Besides, his weekend was only going to get busier from now on, and he’d spent the better part of his boat ride carefully plotting out his itinerary. He planned to arrive at the conference tomorrow morning around 9 AM, attend a few showcases before lunch, and spend the rest of the day exploring stalls and bargain carts. More than likely, he was the only Avaloran mage in attendance (he doubted that any malvagos would’ve cleared the checkpoints), so there might be more like that Cedric guy who’d inquire about his origins and techniques.   
  
Mateo felt ready. He knew he was ready. He was there to make his country, his family and his princess proud. 


	2. The Conjurer's Conference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a chonker of a chapter, so I had to split certain events into two. There's still a lot to come, cuz it's gonna be one packed weekend for our two magic boys.

_“With each deed performed, for better or worse,_  
_a power is granted, a blessing or curse._ ”  
  
Cedric repeated the words in his head as he finished drying off his face and replaced the towel by the washbasin. Weeks had passed since he last thought about the Amulet of Avalor; odd how some years-long obsessions could simmer like a soaked bonfire.  
  
In one corner of the room, Quarry, his new eagle-owl familiar, still dozed soundlessly in his perch, peaceful as could be. Back when Cedric was scouring the local aviaries trying to find a suitable new companion, Quarry endeared himself immediately with his permanently-set scowl. The owl himself was actually very sweet and made for an eager assistant, but the dark brow lines extending from his ear tufts always made him look comically offended.  
  
The sorcerer smiled and scratched softly at Quarry’s black-and-white crest, knowing that he would be up soon. They had one more round of practice before the Tri-Kingdom showcase that afternoon, although by all means they were ready to give their audience a good show.  
  
But Cedric hoped, against all rational thought, that he wouldn’t run into that Mateo boy again.  
  
He was still annoyed at himself for that graceless display of shock when he realized the boy’s identity, but then he had to get carried away and introduce himself on top of that.  
  
As if the boy wouldn’t have heard from Princess Elena about the Amulet of Avalor’s history, including some of its less-than-rightful holders.  
  
He was fortunate enough that they’d parted ways soon after, and that Mateo didn’t recognize him instantly. Perhaps Princess Elena ultimately didn’t register Cedric as a threat. All of the ruckus from the last Conjurer’s Conference happened after she had been freed from the Amulet, and Sofia told him that she was keeping correspondence with her, though the Avaloran princess was understandably rather occupied in other matters. Yet if there was anyone who could spin his story in a positive light, there was no one else whom he trusted more.  
  
But that told him nothing about what Mateo might think of him, and how the young lad would feel about someone like Cedric being stationed so close to his country’s most valuable magical artifact. He thought that this year would be a nice do-over of last year’s fiasco, but now all he wanted to do was get through this conference without a hitch and return to his tower in Enchancia.   
  
He’d just put on his robe when Quarry flew up to the crook of his left arm. The owl hooted hesitantly, his amber eyes curious and alert. Cedric smirked, recalling how Sofia described Quarry’s voice and speech patterns as boyish, even though he was an adult bird. Even without magical animal speech, Cedric could gather that his familiar was nervous; today would be the first time he’d assist in a magic show in front of an audience.  
  
“Let’s not get cold talons now,” he admonished. Quarry replied with a quieter hoot.  
  
“I’ve been there before many, many times, and I will say... I can’t guarantee that it’ll go perfect.”  
  
The owl gave a fearful “H-hoo?”  
  
“But I know you’ll be marvelous, Quarry,” said Cedric, stroking his crest again, right up to the sweet spot on Quary’s head. If a bird of prey could somehow purr, he had no doubt Quarry would’ve done so. It surprised Cedric how quickly they had taken to each other, especially with all the bitterness left in the wake of Wormwood’s betrayal. But he knew that Quarry was his chance to start anew, to once again have a companion he could trust with his work and his life.  
  
“Now come along, we’ve still got an hour left before the show starts,” he reminded him. Quarry gave a trilling hoot, flying in place as Cedric went over to his armoire to collect the rest of his supplies. The conference site was about a twenty-minute walk from their villa, but outside was a perfect balance of blue sky and cloud cover. Hopefully the rest of the weekend would carry on with that same clement level of pleasantness.  
  
+++  
  
Mateo had painted in his mind what the Conjuror’s Conference would look like once he finally stepped through the gated entrance, and the real thing didn’t disappoint. The spacious front lawn of the estate was already packed with stalls touting charms, familiar care kits, designer robes, sample wands, and enchanted toys and art pieces.  
  
Further down the lawn, the air grew rich with the heady scent of rare herbs and incense pots, and several stalls were just focused on selling gardening supplies for the aspiring apothecary. There were even a couple of sigil tattoo stands, showing off elegant designs of mystical animals, constellations and summoning circles. Mateo didn’t even have any interest in getting one, but he was still intrigued to see what designs were popular. He knew his mamá would have given him some serious side-eye for even looking at these kinds of stalls, but so long as he was by himself, he practically had the run of the place.  
  
And that was just the outside. Past an elegantly carved set of dark oak doors, the rose marble-floored foyer of the estate’s main house was where mages gathered to mingle, while the translucent hands of invisible servants went around with trays of finger foods and tea cups. Mateo noticed some enchanted portraits hung from the beige walls, displaying curious fairies, unicorns and dragons looking down at the assembly. It seemed as if spellcasters of every nation from Norberg to Khaldoun were present, and he could see the experience etched into their sharp eyes and deep laugh lines. Mateo had seen the day before that most decorated mages were close to Cedric’s age or older, but now he noticed something else: many of them were followed around by apprentices not much younger than himself.  
  
They ran the gamut from eager, wide-eyed children to nervous teenagers, and they stuck to their masters like ducklings waddling after their mothers. In their arms they held satchels, staves and familiar carriers, if those familiars weren’t perched on their masters’ shoulders or sitting at attention at their feet. These apprentices were obviously dressed for a public event, their robes spotless and fitted with not a wrinkle out of place.  
  
As he stood taller and carefully straightened out his maroon robe, Mateo felt a harsh bump against his hip.  
  
“Hey!” he cried.  
  
“Oh, pardon me. Maybe you shouldn’t be staring off into space so close to the doorway!” retorted a bratty voice somewhere around Mateo’s waist-level. He looked down to see a blue-robed boy no older than twelve, his freckled face pinched into a condescending smirk.  
  
“Wendell! That is no excuse for such behavior!” scolded a fancily made-up woman in white storming up to them. The boy’s smirk vanished, and he meekly ducked his head as the woman towered beside him and crossed her arms.  
  
“Well, Wendell?” she prodded.  
  
Wendell’s brow was set to a harsh V as he looked back up at Mateo, but he managed to eke out one “I’m sorry.”  
  
Mateo was just as eager to move past this as he was. “It’s fine. But I appreciate that you apologized,” he said, his tone more gracious than he really felt.  
  
“Please pardon my son’s behavior,” said Wendell’s mother. Her eyes then took on a discerning light, just as Cedric’s did.  
  
“And, beg pardon, young man, but I can’t recall seeing you last year. Have you just taken on your apprenticeship?” she inquired.  
  
Mateo blinked. “Oh... well no, I actually never was an apprentice. Where I come from, there weren’t any wizards around to teach me.”  
  
As soon as he said that, both mother and son stared as if Mateo’s hair suddenly turned green. That… was that the wrong thing to say? He’d only spoken the truth, but now he realized that he didn’t have time to go over Avalor’s troubled history with magic.  
  
“Wait, no! That’s not a hundred percent true,” he exclaimed. “I took a lot from my grandfather’s old writings and books, so I did have a master wizard to learn from, and.. well, circumstances being what they were, um...” What was he doing? He should have his introduction down pat!  
  
“You’re a self-taught wizard? Now that’s something you don’t see everyday,” the woman remarked.  
  
“That’s just how it worked out.” Maybe if he just kept his answers short and neutral enough, she’d lose interest.  
  
“Who is your grandfather then?” she asked, busting any wishful thinking. A short and neutral answer wouldn’t stop her reaction from being anything but.  
  
Mateo took a deep breath. “He’s Alacazar. The... the former Royal Wizard of Avalor,” he replied.  
  
“Avalor? You mean the country where-Oh, goodness!” she gasped.  
  
“I heard about you! You broke a painting spell, and helped save the whole royal family!” Wendell’s scowl vanished as he looked back up at Mateo with astonished eyes.  
  
“Lissabeth my dear, is something the matter?” asked an approaching enchantress in a silken yellow gown, accompanied by a small group of mages. _Oh great, an audience._  
  
“I happened upon this remarkable young man. His grandfather was the last Royal Wizard of Avalor!” Lissabeth proclaimed.  
  
A middle-aged sorcerer in green laughed in surprise. “I’d heard through the grapevine that we had a guest from Avalor this year, but I’d taken it for the usual claptrap.”  
  
“Er-“ Mateo tried to answer, but Lissabeth interjected, “And he just told me that he learned all that he knows about magic by himself.”  
  
“Hm. That’s rather unorthodox, but given the circumstances, it probably couldn’t be helped,” said another sorcerer, stroking his short black beard.  
  
Mateo tried to laugh it off. “It’s funny, I was just saying that-“  
  
“But wouldn’t some measure of qualification be needed? There should be records kept of the boy’s progress,” interrupted a younger woman in a shimmering dragonscale shawl.  
  
“Doesn’t that seem rather belated at this point, Professor Willough? There are only so many schools who’ll take in wizards his age, not to mention all the rigmarole involved in getting into magics universities,” said Sorcerer Shortbeard.  
  
“How about a kingdom-issued exam?” suggested one wizard that Mateo couldn’t even see.  
  
“Do they have any qualified individuals to oversee that in Avalor?” asked another.  
  
“We might be able to find someone within the Ancient Arts University Association,” said the first enchantress to approach them.  
  
“Would you be interested, young man?” asked Lissabeth, addressing Mateo as if he hadn’t been overridden in this exchange.  
  
“I…” Mateo’s left hand gripped the satchel holding his tamborita like a lifeline. The only way out of the deep end was to say _something_ . Preferably something astute. Or at least coherent.  
  
He crossed his hands behind his back, straightened his knees, and tried to recall the last time he watched Chancellor Esteban or Gabe speak in public.  
  
“I hadn’t put all those factors into consideration. I only took on the title of wizard officially just last year.” _That’s it,_ he thought. _Short, neutral, but stay alert._  
  
“How has that been, lad?” Shortbeard asked with a kind smile.  
  
“I’ve learned a lot just from experience, and it helps that I have so much support back home,” he responded.  
  
“Er, how long have you been studying magic on your own?” asked Professor Willough.  
  
“Basically for as long as I can remember. Close to twelve years, maybe?”  
  
“I’d say he has the experience to at least speak with a university board member. I do know a few who should be about,” she said, looking around the foyer.  
  
“I’ll think about that after the conference,” Mateo added quickly. “It certainly would help to have something on paper.” _And get all of you off my back,_ please.  
  
“Why don’t you come over to the soirée on the estate rooftop tomorrow evening? It’ll be just like this, only with a more casual atmosphere. I think it would be a lovely opportunity for you to get acquainted with more of the wizards here, and bounce off more ideas for potential decisions,” suggested Lissabeth.  
  
Something that was even more of this?  
  
“That’s very kind of you, my lady, but I’ve hardly packed anything suitable to wear for a soirée,” said Mateo, exerting considerable control to keep his voice from shrinking.  
  
“Oh tish tosh, like I said - it’ll be a casual affair. And rest assured, we’ll all be looking out for you, making sure you’re not bothered by some of the more talkative elders,” she breezily assured him.  
  
Not wanting to dwell on that statement, Mateo decided now was his time to bow out.  
  
“That sounds amazing, thank you. It’d be great to meet some of the people I see at the showcases and seminars today,” he said, praying that someone would take the hint.  
  
“Oh, we do hope to see you there, my dear boy!”  
  
“You have a wonderful day now!”  
  
“Would you mind stopping by the enchanted gardening stall this afternoon?”  
  
Mateo responded with as many “Yes”s and “Thank you”s as warranted, careful not to look anyone in the eye for too long as he ducked and wove his way across the foyer and into the main hallway branching off from the left.  
  
“Oh, Lissabeth dear, did you happen to catch the boy’s name?” asked Shortbeard. By the time they looked back, Mateo had made himself scarce.  
  
\---  
  
The doors leading to the courtyard were just within reach, and any second thoughts about slipping away scattered with the bracing scent of the sea.  
  
Turns out, when a former tourist attraction’s featured highlight was its expansive range with an ocean view, all of the event’s main attractions would be lined up there. As crowded as the foyer had been, _this_ was where all the action was. Everyone here scattered in groups or as individuals, taking in live demonstrations of new illusions, mystic menageries, a cadre of fortune-telling tents, game booths, and a hedge labyrinth that took things to the next level with enchanted climate simulations.  
  
And no one could miss the focal point of the conference: a whole quarter of the great field was dedicated to a gigantic beige tent with a green banner flaunting the name “Marvels of Tomorrow” in shimmering white letters. Red, blue and green curtains coated the sides of the tent, and a length of red velvet carpet led up to the entrance.  
  
Mateo didn’t know what to expect as he stepped into the tent, and he was immediately struck by how vibrant everything was. The inner perimeter was bedecked with decorative flowering plants and towering tropical trees, creating the illusion of a jungle growing around the cleared expanse containing the booths and smaller tents. The effect was heightened by the tallest trees reaching the roof of the pavilion, though enough bare area was left for sunlight to filter through the tan canvas. Flittering across the trees were automated toy birds, lovingly crafted with silver and bronze filigree on their wings, tails and beaks. Their trilling songs echoed throughout the pavilion, carried over the bustle of the conference attendants.  
  
The spectacle before him drove off all his earlier unease from the foyer. This felt overwhelming in a good way; a surge of excitement that lit his eyes and powered his gait as he made his way to the showcase theater.  
  
The pavilion was split into two large circular areas, not unlike circus rings. The theater area was a raised wooden platform located in the second, larger circle, placed flush against the farthest end of the tent, with six rows of low wooden benches for the audience. A magenta curtain patterned with stars covered the stage proper. There was already a considerable crowd lounging and mingling on the benches, but thankfully, it wasn’t difficult for Mateo to find a good spot in the middle row.  
  
“Attention to all our esteemed guests and attendees: the Tri-Kingdom Sorcerer’s Showcase will now start in ten minutes,” announced a booming voice speaking over their heads. “The showcase will be the first of many displays of wonder that we’ve in store as part of the Marvels of Tomorrow exhibit, and we indeed hope you have a _marvelous_ time during your stay. Thank you.”  
  
“You heard him, you majestic mages! Let’s find our seats and get ready to start the show!” shouted a perky voice from the stage. In a puff of violet smoke, a young woman with waist-length light pink hair, a pearl-studded diadem, and a flashy blue-and-white dress robe appeared before the curtain, raising a thin golden wand. With a flick of her wrist, she gathered the errant smoke into a floating ball, and then tossed it into the air. The smoke-ball spiraled upwards for a few feet before it burst into a shower of sparkling lights, and Mateo applauded along with the crowd.  
  
“Welcome, and what a wonderful morning to see you all here on the first day of our Conference! I am Isadora the Illustrious, your humble host!” shouted the sorceress. A few loud hoots and whistles pierced from the younger attendees, though they were met with reprimanding looks from their elders. Their host, however, paid no mind as she tucked her wand back into her sleeve.  
  
“It gives me great pleasure to introduce our esteemed line-up of Royal Sorcerers, because they’ve prepared quite the eye-popping show to get this weekend started! But before we get that going, a few points to keep in mind: we’ll want our sorcerers to give you the best show they can, so let’s keep our familiars at their best behavior.”  
  
Isadora went on to list some standard bits of protocol, none of which surprised Mateo save for the point about errant demon summonings.   
  
“But well, I think we all know what to do there, now don’t we?” jested Isadora with a knowing smirk. A handful of mages laughed in response, though Mateo felt the joke slip through his grasp like a hard-flung china plate.  
  
“Alright, let’s not keep you or our panelists waiting!” Isadora drew up her wand again, and with one dramatic flick, a mysterious violet light flooded the theater area. Everyone in the audience held their breath as the curtain began to rise on its own.  
  
Mateo’s smile grew, and his hands gripped at his knees as a silhouetted figure stepped forward.


	3. The Tri-Kingdom Showcase

The lone figure suddenly formed into two, one a few inches taller than the other. The first presenters stepped into the spotlight, another stage effect courtesy of Isadora. The shorter of the two was a kindly middle-aged woman, wearing a midnight-blue robe and draped with a shimmering silver cloak, her head covered by a knotted white headscarf. Next to her was a teenage boy with freckles dotted across his brown skin, clad in an elegant teal robe and a patterned russet turban. A leather satchel hung from his left arm. 

Both bowed deeply before the crowd, then the elder wizard stepped forward to gauge her audience.

Her hazel-eyed gaze held some kind of gravity that pulled at Mateo’s attention. Nothing in it was scrutinizing, just attentive. Quietly aware of the people before her, and silently asking them to share in that awareness.

The woman gave a tender grin, and then began to gesticulate with her hands, smoothly forming various signs while never tearing away her gaze.

“Welcome, friends. I am Hiba, Royal Wizard to His Majesty King Nasir of Khaldoun,” interpreted the young boy, who’d stepped up to Hiba’s side.

“This here is my apprentice, Raadi,” she signed, at which Raadi gave a small nod. 

“I am humbled to be performing this morning for all of you, though I must say, the journey from our country to the isle was… more eventful than perhaps our company hoped,” Hiba continued. It amazed Mateo how Raadi matched his voice to the subtle inflections of his master’s gestures and facial expressions, with only cursory glances away from her hands.

Then as if on cue, Raadi took a couple steps to the side, while Hiba extended her left arm and summoned a tall staff out of thin air. The top of the bronze staff was adorned with gilded feathers curling around a bright sapphire orb, and the body was carved with rows upon rows of delicate engravings. Mateo vaguely recognized some of them as runes, but most of the writing seemed to be calligraphy native to Khaldoun. Another wave of Hiba’s hand caused the engravings to glow a purple light, and as they did, Mateo noticed the various jeweled bracelets and swirling golden bands that decorated Hiba’s forearms. 

A swirling array of lavender lights emerged like ribbons from the staff, coalescing with one another and steadily taking solid shape before their eyes. The lights took the likeness of a giant thirty-foot serpent, its eyes blank as snow and its maw lined with jagged teeth, with enormous tusks curving out of the sides. The illusion looked big enough to ram its head through a fortress, and it eerily stared down upon the audience while gliding through the air. Its jaws opened and closed just slightly as it prowled in a circle, and Mateo couldn’t help but gulp as it passed above his head. No one made a sound, even as the serpent stopped above Hiba’s head.

“Our ship happened to be passing through a pod of these serpents, and some feared the worst,” Hiba signed. 

She then turned toward Raadi. “My dear apprentice confessed that he thought his life was forfeit right then and there.”

Raadi dutifully interpreted his master’s last comments, before he shot back at her with a piqued expression.

“Leave it to Madame Hiba to never skimp out on the details,” he spoke, turning so that he directly faced his master with his signs. Hiba chuckled, as did the audience. But then the spectral serpent curled upwards, and the laughter stopped as it towered above them at its full height. The room grew tense once more as it stood with its eyes unblinking, mouth agape, and then…

It started to sing.

Waves of a soft and ominous melody filled the air, like a shell horn’s strain ringing through a cave. The effect was similar to how Mateo had heard Naomi describe whale songs back at school. Its voice carried echoes of some dark and fathomless part of the ocean, its melody as unhurried as the tide. Mateo then remembered one other thing Naomi warned about serpent calls: many an untrained sailor had met their watery fate by mistaking their song for a whale’s. 

Serpents travelled in large pods beneath the water’s surface, using their song to guide their brood during summer migrations to the north. If boats lingered too long in the migration path, they were met by the viciously territorial serpents. The lucky ones knew to make a swift and quiet escape with their ships, and she meant lucky. Even Naomi’s mother, a master of the seas, had vessels nearly capsized by their tusks and tails. 

The sound carried beyond the theater area to the further corners of the pavillion, and Mateo briefly turned his head to see if anyone outside this crowd had noticed. There were a few curious faces (mainly children and their parents) who looked up at the illusion in awe, though others carried on unperturbed.

He turned back to the serpent, and saw that more light illusions had flown out of Hiba’s staff. They formed a few smaller serpents, brighter in color, which flocked close to the first serpent as it led them higher above the stage. Isadora’s spotlight followed them as they swam through the air in synchronized twisting and swirling patterns, joining one another in song. 

As they circled closer around the theater area a couple of times, showing off well-timed maneuvers that earned bursts of applause from the spectators, Mateo caught Hiba in the corner of his eye. From her billowing sleeves she drew a small square of paper inscribed with thin ink lettering. She flicked it into the air, and the paper burst into a flash of fire.

And just as quickly, the whole pavillion dissolved from Mateo’s sights. Stalls, trees and solid ground had vanished, and all background noise was covered by a pregnant hush. Darkness surrounded them, until an array of tiny lights blinked and swirled into being. Before long, the crowd found themselves sitting in the middle of a galactic cluster, where the brightest star of all shined above: the North Star.

“The crew on our vessel managed to pull us out to safety, but I grew curious as to how often such encounters occurred.” Raadi stood by Hiba once more, holding her staff as she continued her speech. “I asked the captain for records of the sea serpents’ migration patterns, and he gave me an even more invaluable asset.”

Raadi drew three pieces of paper from his sleeve, folded into neat boomerang-like knots. He tossed them one by one into the air, and the papers morphed into their own streaks of light. As with Hiba’s illusions, the streaks gathered like strings rolling up into a ball, and expanded to become different sea creatures: blue caballos marinos, green tortoises, even a gigantic scarlet kraken. They each joined with the serpents as they looped around one last time, before gliding upwards to the North Star.

The crowd’s applause broke out louder, before being quelled by a sharp knock upon the stage. Hiba gave three gentler taps with the staff, and the light illusions she and Raadi conjured formed into a luminous, emerald-colored orb. The orb ballooned into a large globe, and white lines formed around its surface, mapping the various continents of the Ever-Realm.

“The captain showed me all the records of different migration patterns that he and past generations of Khaldounian sailors had collected through their many voyages.” Moving her hand in a curling motion, Hiba conjured an illusory sun, casting light upon her globe.

“The creatures of the sea follow where the cold and warm waters flow. They track the seasons as we still sometimes do with the stars.” Hiba stretched both of her arms out, and summoned her sea beasts once more, in smaller versions that ducked in and out of the surface of her globe. The globe then started to rotate on an axel around the sun, tracking the seasonal paths of the creatures with the sun and the North Star as their constant guide.

As he stared up at the map, Mateo vaguely recalled Abuela and Mamá’s stories about the North Star, how the star’s different positions in relation to the Ever-Realm horizon acted as a compass to early Avaloran sailors. The most fascinating stories recounted how the ancient Maruvians created calendars and predicted turns of fortune from the night sky. 

He once tried to map the sky himself, and although he found the process a bit too precision-based (resulting in many scribbled-out and ink-stained parchment notebooks), he loved to just look at the maps from school and compare them to the star and moon charts in his Abuelo’s archives. While the calculations behind the charts felt weighty and tedious back when he was nine years old, something about his Abuelo’s notes on the constellations and the stories they told would keep him up for hours past his bedtime. 

“My hope with this Astral Atlas is that all who sail upon the seas will instantly know where and when the most dangerous creatures of the sea might cross their paths, and to see how all life, no matter how monstrous its appearance, follows the same patterns as we do,” Hiba explained, giving a knowing smile. 

With another sharp “TACK!” from her staff, her illusions - the globe, beasts, star field - vanished in an instant. Mateo blinked, gathering his senses back to the canvas-filtered sunlight and the general murmur of the exhibition hall. His confusion was shared with some of the younger sorcerers, but the elders looked more quietly impressed with Hiba’s showcase.

“And before you ask: no, you won’t need that whole light show to use the atlas. In fact, one shouldn’t have any trouble carrying one of these around. And yes, everyone will get one to take home,” Hiba finished, eliciting a number of excited whispers.

After he was done interpreting, Raadi reached into his satchel and pulled out a black board segmented into two. He folded out from the part, and from its surface popped out an animated atlas just like the one he and Hiba conjured, though on a smaller scale. The detail was no less impressive on the model, and the board itself was as thin as a school slate.

At a small nod from his master, Raadi closed the board and placed it back in his bag. He joined Hiba in bowing to the audience, who responded in kind with elated applause. Mateo even saw some of them give a standing ovation. 

He looked back at Hiba and Raadi, who were signing between themselves, grinning ear to ear as they exchanged words that he wished he could follow. But their expressions carried all the clarity he needed: while Raadi appeared bashful, in contrast to the collected front he presented on stage, his master couldn’t be more proud.

+++

“Incredible...” Cedric muttered to himself. 

He’d been watching the Khadounian wizards’ performance from a hidden seating area backstage, located off to the side from the main platform. The longer he thought back to Hiba’s star map, the more his stomach felt like a black hole, warping him from the inside. He wanted to pace around, but he stood stock-still, afraid of making a spectacle.

He’d have expected no less from a wizard of her caliber, but Hiba had created an invaluable aid to sailors and adventurers of all stripes. How could his trick match up? What was a gussied-up child’s toy compared to that? 

He hoped that Quarry wouldn’t take notice of his nerves, as the eagle-owl busied himself with treats while resting on his own perch.

“Heh. And she had the mettle to tell me that she came up with all that last minute,” chuckled a sagacious voice from the bench next to his. 

Wu-Chang was seated with his oak staff laid across his lap, stroking his long white beard as he looked over Cedric’s shoulder. Hiba and her apprentice were now making their exit towards the opposite end of the stage, while the young master of ceremonies stepped up to the center in a dazzling dash of pink. 

As she began raving over Hiba’s act to hype up the audience for their next performer, Wu-Chang stood up and leisurely smoothed out his gold-and-veridian robes.

Cedric could recall a few times in his childhood when he’d seen the Royal Sorcerer of Wei-Ling perform, either for King Roland I or in shows with Cedric’s own father, Goodwin the Great. Goodwin was not a man known for his flattery, and one thing that used to (somewhat) quell Cedric’s anxiety over his father’s approval was that, however critical he was about his son’s magical education, Goodwin would apply the same eagle eye for error on his own rivals. 

Wu-Chang was one of the rare few to escape any scathing appraisal, and Cedric could see why. The elder sorcerer was a master of the traditional arts, held a storied record of service, and performed for royals and subjects alike with the same gentle reverence that eased his crowds into some truly wondrous spectacles. For all his years of service however, Wu-Chang rarely spoke of retirement, which made Cedric wonder how he himself would fare the further he got along in his years. 

“Hopefully I won’t lull our guests too well,” Wu-Chang joked, standing by the curtain leading up to the main stage.

Cedric tried to laugh, but the pathetic exhale that came out of his mouth sounded more like a wheeze.

“Is your throat alright?” asked Wu-Chang, clearly concerned.

“It is, it is,” Cedric assured him. Out of habit, he cleared his throat, immediately undercutting his claim.

“Do you need to sit down?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine.” Then Cedric plopped down on the bench, briefly spooking Quarry. In place of smacking himself on the forehead for making a fool out of himself, Cedric gave a blithe shrug.

“Oh, perhaps I didn’t get as much sleep as I thought.” His words weren’t doing much to save face, judging from Wu-Chang’s slightly raised brow. Cedric avoided his gaze, trying to seem distracted by giving Quarry another snack.

“They wouldn’t be out there if they didn’t want to see you,” said Wu-Chang.

“Pardon?” Cedric asked, looking back up.

Wu-Chang gave a small smile. “I’m just recalling what my old master told me. He said that all I could do was give them the show I prepared. Whatever I did, be it a success, failure, mediocrity, was still a learning experience, and after that I only had to focus on how to make my next act even better.”

Cedric bit back a groan. However well-intentioned, he was not in the mood for a pep talk.

“I should say so,” Cedric stated, effecting a proud tone and stance. “A Royal Sorcerer must strive for nothing less than excellence.”

“An admirable goal, in theory. It would depend on how one measures the concept of excellence,” Wu-Chang countered.

“I think that neither you nor I have little to worry about in that regard. Experience and expertise should speak for themselves,” Cedric touted. Quarry flew up to his shoulder and gave two happy hoots.

“I can see that. You’ve improved considerably since you were a child, Cedric.” Wu-Chang had replied with nothing but sincerity, but that didn’t stop Cedric’s shoulders from tensing nor his throat from tightening.

“Oh, you… you remember me from back then?” Cedric uttered.

“How could I forget? Your dear father and mother always had so much to share about you.”

“Ah, as I’d expect,” he sighed.

“And! Without further ado! We’ve got another spectacular guest lined up and ready to go! Let’s see who’s behind Curtain Number Twooooo!” boomed the emcee. Cedric had taken note during rehearsals, but that young woman’s voice could fill a canyon. 

“I bid you luck,” said Wu-Chang.

“Yes, I-” Before Cedric could finish, the other sorcerer vanished with a snap of his fingers, leaving a puff of scarlet smoke. The red smoke quickly evaporated, though Cedric still had to fan some of it away from his eyes.

“-To you as well,” he finished drily. He didn’t have to see the ecstatic welcome Wu-Chang was getting from the crowd. Their cheers were proof aplenty.

“Greetings. My name is Wu-Chang, Royal Sorcerer to His Imperial Highness Emperor Quon of Wei-Ling.” 

As the introductory speech went on, Cedric sat back in his bench, and Quarry settled onto his lap. He gently stroked a hand down Quarry’s crest, letting his familiar’s quiet hoots fill the space. 

He couldn’t let his nerves get the better of him, not after all those days of planning and practice. He never felt more prepared for a performance, and he especially didn’t want his new familiar to look bad because of him. Unfortunately, one thing hadn’t changed: the waiting was always the worst part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the most surprising and fun aspects of writing this story has been creating all sorts of different OC's, sometimes right on the spot! Quarry, Isadora, Hiba and Raadi are all my characters (as far as I know, we never do meet the royal wizard of Khaldoun in StF), and I was especially excited to tap into the idea of deaf mages and non-verbal magic within this universe. I'm not part of the deaf community myself, so if anything looks off, do let me know!


End file.
